


Superman

by slytheringreen91



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I was going for sad, I'm pretty sure it's sad, M/M, Nicknames, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3951763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytheringreen91/pseuds/slytheringreen91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve isn't better at this than Tony would have been. He's not sure he can handle it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Superman

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry for this. I don't know what happened. I was reading through the incomplete works on my computer and came across the first page and a half of this. I don't remember writing the first half, but a few hours later, here we are. 
> 
> I don't own anything and all mistakes are my own!

It had been three days. Three long, pain-staking, heart-wrenching, god-why-can’t-the-world-just-end, days. Three days and things weren’t looking any better. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. And the memorial service had just begun. Gathered around were friends and comrades, people Steve would have trusted to have his back at the end of the world, but now he only wishes would go away and leave him alone with Tony.

 

_God_ Steve thinks _it should have been me_. No one else would agree, of course, if he’d spoken out loud. Everyone would have jumped at the opportunity to speak. ‘No Steve, we _need_ you! Iron Man was important but you’re our _Captain_ and, anyway, I mean, compared to you who could Tony ever be? I mean, his money, yeah, and his inventions. But you’re the _heart_ of this team don’t you see that?!’

 

 Okay, maybe Steve’s not being completely fair. He can see the stiff-lipped face of Janet who is clinging to Hank for dear life. And there’s Natasha, white-faced and beautiful as ever but maybe, _maybe_ Steve sees something less deadly in her eyes. Or more deadly, he’s not sure. With Natasha it’s hard to tell. And Barton’s there, in a _tree_ , of all things, watching the procession from above as usual. Banner stands there with tears freely rolling down his face and Steve envies him the ability to display his sorrow so clearly. Maybe it had something to do with being the freakin’ _Hulk_ when he was angry but Banner never manages to hide his emotions anywhere near as well as the rest of them.

 

Thor isn’t here but he stopped by earlier (just to see Steve, he said it was important that he saw Steve) and saw the body, not understanding.

 

“In Asgard we do not cling to the bodies of the dead. There are no ceremonies to grieve over wounded flesh that has tasted the steel of battle. We rejoice in our comrade’s successes and grieve at his passing, but we grieve with ale and laughter instead of with tears and sorrow.”

 

There were more words, Steve thinks, but he can’t remember them and, anyway, those are the ones that stuck. Steve thought maybe it would have been better to just leave Tony where he was on the street in New York so that the world might see what had become of it, that such great men were slaughtered at the hands of evil. Tony would have lain there, rotting, and blaming the people of the world without even trying and maybe Steve would have taken pleasure in it or maybe it would have made things worse but, either way, he thought, it would have been more appropriate than _this_.

 

In a casket forged of iron and diamonds – not Tony’s idea, he remembers and suddenly Steve recalls that the Iron Man suit wasn’t made of iron at all but of some other metal that Steve can never recall the name of and Steve wants to ask someone what the metal was and why wasn’t Tony at least being buried in _that_?

 

Steve takes a deep breath. Now is not the time. He can’t panic, can’t let himself be overwhelmed or else . . .

Tony rests, peaceful and still has he had never been in life. They had asked Steve whether or not Tony should be buried in the damaged suit (and why had they come to _Steve_ of all people? Did everyone know what had never been spoken aloud?) or if they should remove it and replace it with a new one.

 

Steve had considered both options before picking the third – take the suit off, don’t put another one on because . . . because . . .

            Because Tony wasn’t Iron Man. He was, of course, Steve knows this – how could he not after years of working side-by-side with the man? -  but Iron Man was _different_ than Tony. Iron Man didn’t laugh at the same things, he didn’t cry (or, if he did, no one could tell) and he didn’t give Steve that _knowing_ look. Iron Man didn’t spend weeks on end in a lab with breaks only for food or sleep when they were forced upon him. Iron Man was strong and certain, but the vulnerable man beneath was the one laying in that casket and Steve thought it was only right that that was the last thing the world would ever see of Tony Stark.

 

And something must be happening now because Steve hears his name being called softly. _Oh_. It’s time for him to speak.

 

This isn’t the first time Steve has had to speak on behalf of a fallen comrade and he doubts it will be the last. But this _is_ the first time the loss has hit so close to home. The first time Steve hasn’t written what to say beforehand. Steve had tried to get something on paper, but the words hadn’t come. Steve felt Tony’s presence in experiences, not in words, so how could words ever measure up to everything Tony was?

 

At this point it doesn’t matter. Steve has to say something. He walks slowly to the podium, trying to gather his thoughts when all he can think about is the cold bed left for him at Avengers tower. The one that hasn’t been used in months because Steve has been sleeping elsewhere.

 

Steve stops when he gets the podium and fixes his eyes on the casket before him, instead of looking at the mourners as he knows he should.

 

“Tony was . . .” Steve stops and clears his throat. Words won’t come, just as they hadn’t come each time he’d tried to write the damn speech over the last three days. Now, just like every time before, Steve sees flashes of memories behind his eyes. Memories of himself and Tony fighting in earnest the first time they’d met; _“Big man in a suit of armor, take that away, what are you?” “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist”_. Eventual apologies for things said in anger; _“Tony, what you did – at the battle of New York? You are a hero. I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.”_ Late night confessions; “ _I know that dad was one of your best friends. He never shut up about it. And I know you think he was a great guy. Maybe he was. But he was a shit father. Half the scars I’ve got aren’t from my time as Iron Man”_. Even later night revelations; “ _I think I’d like to see what your lips taste like.” “Probably not a good idea, Steve. Relationships aren’t really my thing and I’m pretty sure flings aren’t yours.”_

 

So many days of being together, just the two of them or surrounded by friends; _“You made me a motorcycle?” “Well, I saw that you weren’t wearing your helmet and, seriously?! Captain America should be setting better examples for our children! Anyway, couldn’t let your brain get bashed in. Super serum’s great, but I’d like to be sure. I’ve added more safety features than you’d ever be able to find.”_ Tony getting on Steve’s nerves, but taking his breath away; _“You know, the Superman comic was based on you, right? After World War 2, kids were all about superheroes, but Superman was first and the most obviously based on you. They pretty much just added flying and an alien background Steve. And, well, to be fair, the general public probably didn’t know about your powers so maybe some of them really **thought** you were an alien” Tony laughed hysterically. Tony was beautiful. _ Hundreds of instances of Tony using the old comic to give Steve a nickname; “ _Hey, Superman, a little help?”, “Jeez, be a little more careful Superman”, “Superman sure is bossy today”, “Kiss me, Superman”, “Let’s fly Superman!” and, “Good night Superman”_

And finally those last moments; _“Steve. I’m not making it out of this one.” The Iron Man mask sits deserted on the broken ground between them. “Tony, shut the **fuck** up, Jesus Christ, of course you’re going to make it.” _

_“Steve . . . my vision’s cutting in and out, I can’t feel below my neck, my heart keeps skipping beats - and not in the good way -  and . . . J.A.R.V.I.S. called it about 2 minutes ago. There’s nothing to be done” Steve can’t breath. J.A.R.V.I.S. wouldn’t lie to Tony, but . . . Tony starts back up again “There are protocols in place. The team’ll be fine **. You’ll** be fine. Peter . . .” _

_Steve hisses in pain “What am I supposed to say to him Tony? Tell him his daddy’s not . . . . **shit** ” Steve’s voice breaks and Tony smiles grimly. “I know I adopted him. I know you’re not his father. But he’s yours, if you want him. I had Pep make out all the paperwork. Talked to him about it. He knows you. He likes you. He knows this was always a possibility . . .” “Tony he’s **five**. He doesn’t know what death is. Not really. He doesn’t even remember his parents. How could he possibly know what death is?”_

_Silence falls for several seconds while both try to find words. Steve finds them first. “What if he doesn’t remember you?”_

_Tony smiles sadly. “That’s the way of it. Kids forget their parents. It’s the way it should be if it’ll cause him less pain.” “But . . .” Steve starts, but Tony interrupts “Steve. I love my son but I want to spend my last minutes with you. Talking to you. Telling you how much I love you. Telling you that I’d give you the sky if you wanted it and I’d take you back the 1940’s and let you leave me if you wanted to or I’d go with you, even, if you’d let me and I could bring Peter . . . even if they didn’t have **internet** back then. Jesus, Steve, would you really make me give up the internet?!”_

_Steve cuts in, but his voice breaks “Tony . . .”. Tony’s breath hitches and interrupts whatever Steve was about to say. They sit quietly for a full minute at least, until Tony’s breaths are so shallow it’s painful for Steve to hear them. Tony opens and closes his mouth several times before he gets out his final words. “This is goodbye Superman”_

Steve shudders and looks up. Quiet reigns and everyone’s looking at me expectantly and with pity. How can he put all those feelings into words and express his loss? The team’s loss? Hell, the world’s loss?

 

Steve begins his speech again. “I’ve thought many times over these past few days that maybe it would have been better if I had never met Tony. If we hadn’t even been strangers passing on the street, let alone . . . Because then it wouldn’t be so hard. All I’d have to do is watch it on TV: ‘Iron’ Man’s been killed’ and, yeah, I’d be sad and I’d be angry. But it wouldn’t be happening to _me_. I’d go home and think about how it could have been me but how it wasn’t. Maybe I’d be a little more careful when I’m on the streets fighting evil.

But that’s not how it is. This _is_ happening to me, as much as it’s happening to all of you. So I can wish I’d never met Tony and I can pray that this isn’t happening, but Tony has been everything to me that one man can be to another in our six years together as friends and comrades. He stood beside me during my hardest times. We stood against each other more than once, but we always came back to each other. To being friends and being there for each other.

He’s been there for every important aspect of my life over the last six years and he held me together through all of it. It’s not fair to Tony for me to wish I’d never met him and it’s not fair to me.

So why are we here? We’re here to honor the memory of our friend, a man of integrity and courage and of hope. Today, let’s honor all of the good times we had with Tony. All the late nights watching movies and getting wasted, the warm sunny days and games of football in the park, all the times he was there for us, for the little things and the big.”

 

Steve pauses for breath and looks away from the casket for the first time since his speech began. There are silent tears and hardened faces throughout the crowd. He’s not doing Tony justice, he knows. The words are faltering and empty. But they are the only ones he has to share. Everything else is too personal.

 

He turns back to the casket and kneels beside it, placing his right hand gently on the smooth surface. “Wherever you’ve gone, you will be missed. Nothing can every replace you in our lives. The world is diminished without you.”

 

Steve stands, nods to the assembled mourners and moves forward to take Peter’s hand. Peter’s face is tear streaked as it has been for most of the last three days. Turns out, Peter has a better idea of what death is than either Tony or Steve expected.

 

The two stand together, silent sentinels as the casket is lowered into the ground and covered. They are there long after the rest of the mourners have gone. Even though Peter is only five, he doesn’t complain about the late autumn chill. Eventually Steve breaks down as he hasn’t been able to in three days and he holds Peter as Peter sobs and shatters right beside him. They cry until it is nearly dark and they both have trouble reading the engraving on the stone that is all they have left of Tony.

 

_I was Iron Man. But Iron Man was made human again by a tiny spider and Superman._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Comment below if you'd like and let me know if you see any errors I can fix. Kudos are always appreciated :).


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